I have long toes.
When I was 10 my childhood friend used to say “if I cut my toes off I would be a size 6”. After all these years I finally agree with her. I would be a size 6 if I cut my toes off.
But the toe with the utmost significance is my inherited big toe which my mother blessed me with. Many times I left socks with the eye of a needle. Every single pair of socks I owned eventually had a hole.
But my big toe is beautiful. Wide, round, and brown with three horizontal lines. I think I have beautiful feet. I’m not sure if the person who owns the foot is supposed to be the judge of that. But no one has ever compared them to shriveled up baby carrots or complained whenever I wear sandals.
I am a shoe lover. But my big toe hates beautiful heels because they suffocate and squeeze her like a grape. My mother and I are both shoe crazy (She more than me). As a child I would always put on her heels and practice walking like a woman because I just couldn’t wait to be one (Silly me).
My baby feet grew up learning how to walk like my mother. Toddling behind her at first and then soon treading the pavement right beside her. My mother’s strides were much too long for me and I had to catch up. But ten years later I realize my strides are now quicker than hers. She has taught me well like a lioness trains her cub to conquer the wilderness.
Thanks Mom. I love our big toe.
It reminds me of how far we’ve come and yet to go.